To the Brink and Back Again
by Lugubrious DBB
Summary: Happenstance, or perhaps something more, draws Fae, a young íllethrena, into the lives of a familiar band of heroes as they desperately search for the only person that can save the life of someone they all hold dear. UPDATE: Abandoned in favor of a new "Voices, Part Seven."
1. Chapter 1: Happenstance

**To the Brink and Back Again**

 ** _Voices_ Part Seven**

 **Chapter One**

 **Happenstance  
**

* * *

 _We go to the brink and back again,  
_ _Where life and death collide.  
_ _And none who return are the ever the same  
_ _But it's certainly one hell of a ride.  
_ —Old Arendellian battle chant

 _Flame and ice, alone are nice,  
_ _Till perchance they meet:  
_ _Then you pay the price.  
_ —King Vandrosh of the Western Mountains, as recorded in the Received Scrolls

* * *

It was not in Fae's nature to seek out danger.

Indeed, the _íllithrena_ was, by and large, content with her place as keeper of her forest—the Abandoned Forest as the Men who on occasion passed through called it. Not that she was particularly fond of the title, for it was most certainly _not_ abandoned; one simply needed to know how to _see_ to realize how alive and beautiful it truly was. Still, she could hardly blame Men for their lack of vision: it seemed to be their nature, perhaps entirely unavoidable. And, in some small way, she pitied them, for she had watched in silence from the shelter of the trees as Men camped in the glade, entirely oblivious to the singing of the birds, the gentle flutter of butterflies, the soft humming of insects, sounds that to her were as much in the foreground of her awareness as what she could see, taste, touch.

The Abandoned Forest had been her home for what seemed like ages, she thought to herself as she made her evening rounds about the woods, the setting sun cutting through the canopy of the trees, bathing her world in orange and purple hues. _Not that time matters to an_ íllithrena _at all,_ she ruminated, brushing a strand of reddish brown hair from her eyes. Yet she knew it had only been a few cycles of summers and winters since she had first set hoof upon its grounds. A shudder made its way down her spine as she recalled the dark, ominous atmosphere she had felt upon arriving; the trees themselves, gnarled and twisted, had seemed to be doing their best to frighten away passersby—relics, perchance, of a long-departed malicious presence.

It had taken time, of course, to bring light back to the foreboding woods. _And work,_ she reminded herself as her hand brushed against a wilting flower. The petals sprang back to life at her touch, their color more radiant than ever. She smiled in spite of herself, pleased to see her particular brand of what mortal beings could only describe as "magic" had served its purpose. _Much, much work._

The _skygge folk,_ for their part,had not been particularly amenable to her arrival. Rather, they had initially viewed her as an unwanted nuisance, rebuffing any attempt by her to convince them to allow her to restore their forest. The creatures, hardly known for their patience and understanding, eventually acquiesced, but only after she had shown she was capable of speaking in their native tongue and, more importantly, after she had promised to not interfere in their hunting rituals. "You'll let us be," their leader had warned her, "just as the few others we have trusted have." He had paused at that moment, a hint of melancholy clearly evident in his voice and body language. "As _she_ did after we helped her . . ."

"Who?"

Fae's relative youth and curiosity had gotten the better of her. "Who is 'she'?"

The _skygge folk_ leader shook his head at her question, his dark eyes narrowing, making it clear she had overstepped her bounds. "Never you mind, young _íllithrena_ ," he had hissed at her. "You leave us be, and we will let you be. You tend to the trees and the flowers and the animals. We will keep watch against those who might wish ill of this forest." His massive paw had come to rest upon her shoulder, its weight simultaneously comforting and threatening. "That is the debt we owe your ancestors for their aid years ago. Nothing more."

Fae shook her head as she continued her nightly ritual, the past of no use to her at the moment. _Now . . . Now, I remember. It has been three years. Three years since I came here._

She had reached the pond at the very heart of the forest, its clear waters sparkling like diamonds as the rays of the setting sun danced across its surface. Fae had found this to be her favorite spot in the entire forest; the trees formed a protective dome over the pond, insulating it from the outside world. Even the ordinary sounds of life that could be heard all throughout the rest of the woods were strangely silent here, giving it an ethereal quality that could only be described as the embodiment of solitude.

 _An_ íllithrem _has no place outside his forest,_ her father had told her over and over again as a child. _We were made to care for them, and they for us to protect. Without forests, we are nothing._

Fae nodded in assent, her father's voice sounding in her pointed ears; ears, he had told her long ago, that had been shaped thus to allow them to hear every movement of every insect, every rustle of every leaf. As she reached the water's edge, she could not help but glance down at her reflection, clear as could be in the stillness of twilight.

Her reddish-brown hair framed skin of light olive as it cascaded down her back, her torso covered in a handmade, sleeveless tunic of animal hide. Around her waist, Fae had fastened a belt upon which rested several leather pouches, each containing vital medicines and other items necessary for properly maintaining her forest. Just below her waist, smooth skin transitioned to soft, chestnut hair, the four legs and haunches of a horse resting upon the grass along the shoreline.

Indeed, the world beyond the edges of the forest was no place for her, she reminded herself as she knelt carefully to the ground, her cupped hand dipping itself into the water, bringing it to her lips. _There are already so few of us left,_ Fae contemplated as she drank. A frightening thought crossed her mind in that instant. _What . . . What if I am the last—_

An uninvited sound snapped the _íllithrena_ from her thoughts. Rising to her full height, she frowned, her eyes narrowing at the sound of laughter from somewhere in the forest. _It is not the_ skygge folk _,_ she told herself. _Could . . . Could it be . . .?_

Fae was light on her hooves as she traversed through the thick blanket of trees, each step carefully chosen so as to avoid making her presence known to whoever—or whatever—was responsible for the sound echoing about the woods. She stayed off the main path, anxious to remain concealed as she moved deliberately, stealthily toward the source of the commotion. The laughter was louder now, of that she was certain, and she could smell the telltale scent of smoke growing stronger with each step. Finally, she could see the small campfire and the trio of men surrounding it, their horses tethered to trees nearby.

". . . And that's when I told 'im," said one of the men, "that's when I told 'im . . . 'Good God, man, I don't care _wot_ yeh put in it, jest make sure it gets me more pissed than I ever been in me life!'"

One of his companions completely lost his composure, laughing uproariously, smacking his leg. "Right! That's a good one right there, mate!" he exclaimed, taking a long swig from a bottle firmly within his grasp. "Ain't that right, Jensen?"

The younger man stood away from the fire, his hand remaining tightly affixed to the sword upon his belt. "Shut up yeh two!" he hissed at his companions. "Are yeh tryin' teh get us killed by wolves . . . or worse?"

Fae nodded in silent assent. _Please. Do as he says!_ It had been some time since she had last seen the wolf pack that had tried to wrest control of the forest from the _skygge folke._ Nevertheless, Fae had little confidence her last attempt to frighten them away had been entirely successful, and it was most certainly only a matter of time before they—

"Oh, calm down, Jensen!"

The one who had been telling the joke waved his hand dismissively. "Come on, man. 'Ave a little fun, now, won't yeh? We've 'ad a long day ridin' and we're entitled teh some—"

"You're entitled teh nothin'!" Jensen snapped, frustration evident in his voice. "If you lot would 'ave listened teh me, we would have ridden through these woods before makin' camp fer the night, not set up shop in the middle of this godforsaken—"

"Oh, do lighten up, now, will yeh, lad?" The man with the bottle rose, his mirth turning to annoyance. "I swear, mate, yeh've been nothin' but a right melancholy little bastard since we left the 'Delle." He raised a large hand, his thumb pointing behind him, toward the north. "If this is 'ow you're goin' teh behave, lad, yeh best make yer way back to the 'Delle before Ainsworth 'ere and I sour on yeh more than we already 'ave—"

Jensen snorted dismissively. " _Fegh!_ It's not like there's anythin' in the 'Delle worth stayin' for. Not for the likes of me, that is."

"Too right," Ainsworth chimed in. "Tain't nothin' for the likes of scoundrels like us. What with that Empress from the, eh, from the west takin' over . . . oh, what's her name again, Dartwood?"

The man with the bottle smacked his forehead in annoyance. "Alúvelin, yeh halfwitted fool. Good God, man, yeh could at least _try_ teh pay attention teh somethin' other than yerself fer once in yer miserable life."

"Yeah!" Ainsworth nodded vigorously, ignoring Dartwood's insult. "That's it! 'Ah- _loo_ -vah' . . . oh, whatever. And Queen Elsa before 'er. Between the two of 'em, tain't hardly been possible for a man teh make a dishonest livin' in the 'Delle in years."

Dartwood sighed. "Ay. It just ain't right, I tell yeh. Why should we 'ave to be all respectable just because Queen Elsa decides she's too good for us and starts—"

"Shut up!" hissed Jensen, glaring at both of them. "Not only do I not want teh be eaten by wolves, I also 'ave no desire to 'ear that name again! Do yeh understand?!"

Before Ainsworth or Dartwood could respond, Jensen moved away from the fire, toward his tethered horse. "Enough talk," he muttered under his breath as he lay down upon the grass, his hand still gripping his sword. "I've 'ad enough of the 'Delle teh last me a lifetime. The farther away I get from it . . . the _sooner_ I get away from it, the better!"

Dartwood and Ainsworth were silent for several minutes, neither man knowing just what to say in response to Jensen's sudden outburst. The crackle of the slowly-dying fire filled the air, the sound so soft that, from her hiding place in the nearby trees, Fae feared the two men would most certainly hear her breathing, soft though it was. Her heart all but skipped a beat when, without warning, Ainsworth spoke.

"What are we bringin' the sullen lad along for again anyway, Dartwood?" he inquired, glancing over to make certain Jensen was sleeping before he continued. "He's been nothin' but miserable since we left." He took the bottle from Dartwood, taking a long, slow swig. "The way he's been prattlin' on, yeh'd think he'd be 'appy teh get away from there."

Dartwood was uncharacteristically quiet. "Don't . . . Don't be too 'ard on the lad, Ainsworth," he said. "After all, his uncle did get 'imself killed after gettin' involved with the Queen an' all."

"Blimey!"

Ainsworth smacked his forehead. "'Ow'd I not figure it out sooner? He's Jansarnen's nephew, ain't he?"

Dartwood nodded in assent. "Ay. That he is. Don't think he's ever forgiven the Queen for it." He inhaled slowly, his voice suddenly laden with weariness. "Not even when she just up an' disappeared a few years ago." It was his turn to snort. "Ah, but that's Jansarnen's own fault, God rest 'is soul an' all. I _told_ 'im never to get involved in magic an' royalty. Far too risky, no matter wot they promise for a reward." He yawned, his eyes growing heavier with each passing second. "But he didn't listen teh me, an' . . . well . . ."

Despite her need to remain hidden, Fae was absolutely entranced by their conversation. Never before had Men freely offered so much information about the outside world—let alone _Arendelle_ of all places—as they passed through the forest. Deciding the risk was worth taking, she ever-so-carefully stepped forward, peering her head out from the safety of the trees, desperate to hear more. _So the Queen of Arendelle . . . She's . . . She's_ gone _? How? Why?_

Unfortunately for her, both men had fallen silent by the time she had moved closer. Before long, the muted crackles and pops emanating from the coals was superseded by the soft, rhythmic inhalations and exhalations of sleep.

Disappointed, Fae retreated back several paces until the brown hues of her coat, hair, and tunic blended seamlessly with the bark of the surrounding trees. Although she knew the affairs of Men were of no importance to her, that her responsibility was to remain in the forest she had chosen to care for—such a solemn responsibility, as her father had instructed her, was binding once undertaken, never to be broken—her youthful exuberance would not allow her to dismiss the conversation from her mind. _Now, I want to know!_ she thought to herself as she knelt down for the night. _Why did the Queen disappear? Who is this "Alúvelin"? Why—_

 _Settle yourself, Fae,_ the voice of reason told her. _Care only for your trees and your animals. Let Men worry about Men._

Still, as sleep began to overtake her, Fae promised herself she would rise early, if only for the fleeting hope that the intruders would reveal even more information before their departure . . .

* * *

The men were gone by the time she awoke. Disappointment mingled with relief within her spirit as Fae rose for the day. _You fool!_ she berated herself. _You should have returned to your bed before you slept! What if they had gone exploring while you still slept? What if they had seen you?!_

Peering out from among the trees, Fae made certain she was alone before exiting the sanctuary of her hiding place. As she trotted back toward the pond for her morning bath, she fought to convince herself it was better this way. _Besides,_ she thought. _Men will say anything when they are trying to impress one another. Or when they have been drinking. For all I know, they may have been telling tales the whole time._

Picking an apple from a nearby tree, she bit into it, savoring the sweetness and tartness of its juices as she chewed on its flesh. "Perfect," she said aloud, knowing there was no one to hear her voice but her own ears. "But there is still so much to do . . ."

As the days, weeks, and seasons passed, Fae saw no one else enter the forest, the entire episode all but vanishing from her memory. And yet, as she labored and cared for her beloved trees and flowers, some part of her, however faint, still wondered if it had been mere happenstance that had caused her to overhear the men's tales, or if perhaps something more significant was meant by the encounter . . .

* * *

 **AN: More to come.**


	2. Chapter 2: Wolfsbane

**To the Brink and Back Again**

 ** _Voices_ Part Seven**

 **Chapter Two**

 **Wolfsbane**

"You! _Íllithrena_!"

Fae was startled from her slumber by the unexpected hissing near her ear. Half asleep, she struggled to stand, her hooves flailing about until they found their footing. She blinked repeatedly, her eyes working to adjust to the inky blackness that encompassed her forest, the light of the moon above piercing the canopy in thin, luminous streaks.

The _skygge folke_ leader shook his head in obvious contempt, his massive paws clenching again and again as he watched the _íllithrena_ ready herself at long last. "You are lucky I didn't want to kill you," he hissed in his own tongue, Fae's addled mind working overtime to translate. "Is this how you always sleep?" A low growl emanated from his throat as he took hold of Fae's tunic, pulling her face mere inches from his own, his breath hot upon her cheek. "It would have been so _easy_ ," he snarled. "You really should be more careful—"

 _"Nendéna!"_ Fae shot back, pulling herself from his grasp, not wanting to fight but in now way willing to tolerate his threats. "What do you want? Why did you wake me—"

"Listen."

The creature gestured for Fae to remain silent, the nighttime sounds of the forest suddenly broken by an audible intruder to the north.

"Wolves," Fae whispered, shivering involuntarily as a chill washed over her (the midnight air of summer, she tried to reassure herself). "They've . . . They've returned!"

"Exactly."

The _skygge folke_ leader turned away, gesturing for Fae to follow him. "Well? What are you waiting for, _íllithrena_? We have work to do. Or must I clean up your mess by myself?"

Fae ignored his insult, not wanting to give any indication he had gotten under her skin. Making certain her belt was secure around her waist, she took hold of a long wooden staff she had fashioned the previous winter. She had not yet had need of it, she thought with relief as she trotted behind the creature, their steps all but inaudible as they progressed toward the source of the howling. _And I wished it would have stayed that way—_

Fae nearly lost her footing as she stopped abruptly, instinctively rearing back upon her hind legs. The _skygge folke_ leader had halted, his claws curling as he listened intently; had Fae not been paying attention, she would have cantered right into him.

"What are you _doing_?!" she whispered, her voice tinged with exasperation. "I almost—"

The beast hissed at her, motioning once again for her to be silent. As patient as she normally was, Fae had reached her breaking point. She opened her mouth, prepared to berate the creature for his condescension, for his rudeness, for his continued insistence upon treating her as an unwanted visitor rather than the equal she felt she was. Before she could speak, however, she stopped, her heart beating faster as she detected an unnerving change in his body language. There was no sign of arrogance upon the _skygge folke_ leader's face as he leaned forward, his ears twitching back and forth, his countenance tinged with what appeared to be— _no, it couldn't be_ —worry, concern.

Fae tried to imitate the beast's behavior, her pointed ears straining with all their might to discern what new sound had filled him with such dread. She inhaled sharply as, at long last, she heard it as well. "I hear . . . I hear Men," she whispered, trying her best not to sound as frightened as she felt. "I hear . . . _screams_ . . ."

The _skygge folke_ leader hissed. "I _know_ that voice . . ."

With a roar, the creature turned, no longer attempting to maintain the pretense of silence. Moving on all fours, he tore through the forest at breakneck speed, leaving Fae behind.

"Wait!"

Squinting in the moonlit darkness, Fae took off after him, her hoofbeats echoing through the forest as she galloped after her companion. Tightening her grip on her staff, she ran and ran and ran, her heart beating furiously, perhaps more from fear than exertion.

Bursting from the trees, Fae found herself in a glade near the northern entrance to the forest. Her eyes darted about as she circled in place, straining for any sign of the _skygge folke_ leader. "Where are you?!" she called out, her voice trembling. A cool breeze washed over the skin of her arms, her hair blowing behind her.

A loud cry sounded to the northeast, followed by another, and another. Rearing back, a high-pitched wail emanating from her throat, Fae rushed toward the sound.

The voices grew clearer as she grew closer. In the distance, Fae could see the orange glow of fire, as well as three figures huddled together, blazing torches in their hands. A chorus of howls sounded as she moved toward them, the sound echoing about the forest, making it impossible to determine their origin.

". . . they are!" She could hear one of the men shouting orders to his companions. "Don't let them any closer!"

"Francis! Watch out!"

Fae screamed in horror as she beheld a wolf leap, fangs bared, from the darkness toward one of the men. The man swung his torch at the animal, his black clothing swirling about him as the flame met its target. The force of the blow sent the wolf flying backwards, its whimpering suddenly silenced as it smashed against a tree. The animal sank to the ground, unmoving.

The man in black gestured to his right, his sword shining from the light of his torch. "There!" he cried out. "There's another one!"

"I've got him!"

The third man reached for his belt, his hand withdrawing a white powder from a pouch on his belt. Fae watched in astonishment as the man let out a cry in an unfamiliar language, hurling the powder at the oncoming wolf as he did so. As the powder billowed about the canine, the wolf suddenly let out a high-pitched whine. A crazed look in its eye, the wolf took off running in the opposite direction, howling in terror as it retreated.

"Nice work," commented a blonde-haired man, his eyes darting about, a small yet sharp-looking knife clutched tightly in his hand as what remained of the wolf pack slowly inched closer. "How much more of that do you have?"

His companion shook his head. "Only enough for one more." He paused. "That gives me an idea . . ."

With a cry, the man hurled another handful of powder toward what he assumed was the alpha male. Like the one before, the wolf acted as if it had just beheld its greatest fear, running away as fast as it could. The rest of the pack faltered, confused, uncertain of what to do now that the leader had abandoned them.

The man with the powder let out a cry of triumph. "They're on the run!" he cried. "I'll make sure they know who's boss!"

"What?!"

The blonde man reached out his hand to grab hold of his companion's shoulder. "That's insane, Anlerusk! Wait! Wait—"

But the man paid him no heed. Letting out a cry, he took off after the wolves.

The man in black shook his head. "I've got him," he said, his grip tightening on his sword as he followed his companion. "I'll make sure he comes back," he called over his shoulder to the blonde man. "Don't worry . . ."

"Wait!"

But both men were gone, leaving the blonde man alone with the still-burning fire. Letting out an exasperated sigh, he kicked a nearby stone. "Of course. Run after a pack of hungry wolves. That sounds like a _great_ idea . . ."

Fae watched in silence as the man set about making certain his camp was secure. He placed another log on the fire before walking toward the horses tethered to the nearby trees, his voice low as he whispered words of reassurance to them.

Her curiosity getting the better of her, Fae stepped forward, eager to see more. Her heart nearly skipped a beat as a loud _crack_ filled the air. Looking down, she was horrified to discover she had stepped on and broken a large stick.

The man whirled about, his knife at the ready. "Francis?" he whispered, his eyes darting about. "Is that you?"

Her excitement turned to terror as she realized the man was moving toward her, that she had strayed too far from the safety of the trees, that he would be upon her within a matter of seconds. Her grip tightened on her staff as she held it before her, prepared to strike the man if he attempted to harm her.

The man took another step toward her, his eyes narrowing as he strained to see in the darkness. "Anlerusk? Did you—"

The attack came from the side, too fast for him to react. A growl pierced the air as the wolf darted from the shadows. In a flash, the beast had leapt upon the man, tackling him to the ground.

A scream of pain emanated from the man's throat as the wolf's jaws clamped down on his shoulder. "Get off!" he roared as he wrestled the animal, his arm desperately reaching for the knife he had dropped as he struggled to break free of the wolf's grasp.

Fae was paralyzed with fear. Uncertain of what to do, afraid of being seen, she watched helplessly as the man let out another scream of agony as the wolf's teeth dug deeper into his flesh. Even in the dim light from the moon above, Fae could see the grass below the man turning dark with blood— _his_ blood.

 _No! Not in this forest! Not in_ my _forest!_

Her high-pitched shriek rang out as Fae galloped forward, her staff at the ready. Without breaking stride, she brought the weapon down as hard as he could on the wolf's side, a loud _crack_ signifying the snapping of the animal's ribs.

Howling in pain, the wolf released its grip on the man. Whirling about, it snarled as it advanced on Fae, growls and snarls emanating from its throat.

 _Get back,_ íllithrena _!_

Fae shook her head determinedly as she stared down the advancing canine. _"Ne na!"_ she whispered loudly as she twirled her staff before her. "He is not to be touched."

The wolf howled at her, its steps ginger as the pain from its broken ribs hampered its movement. _He is mine, young one! You presume too much! You dare try to order us out of this forest? You have no right—_

"I have every right!" Fae snapped, slowly circling as the wolf eyed her hind legs, its teeth gleaming in the light of the fire. "You belong on the plains to the west! Not here. Not in my forest—"

Your _forest?_ hissed the wolf, nipping at Fae's hindquarters, driving her back. With a frightened cry, Fae swung her staff once more, striking the wolf in the side of the head.

Howling in pain, the beast let out a murderous growl. _You will pay for that, young one! My brethren will soon return once they have finished off this man's foolish companions. And then, we will show you how it feels to be driven from your precious forest, just as you did to us!_

Fae's façade of bravery began to falter as she realized just how alone she was. In the back of her mind, she realized the _skygge folke_ leader was nowhere to be found, that she had no one to help her. "Stay back!" she commanded, rearing back on her hind legs. "Stay—"

The wolf crouched, prepared to spring forward, when it suddenly howled in agony. Fae looked on in astonishment as she saw the man's knife embedded deep within the wolf's shoulder blades. The wolf whirled about, snarling as it advanced on the blonde man. The man's face was pale, his breathing labored as he attempted to crawl away, but his injury overwhelmed him, his body falling forward onto the grass.

Before the wolf could strike the fatal blow on the man, Fae brought her staff toward the creature's skull. Too distracted by the man's presence to react, the wolf collapsed, motionless, from the blow, its labored breathing ceasing.

Fae stood unmoving in shock for several moments, the crackle of the fire behind her the only audible sound. _I . . . I killed it!_ she thought to herself, the realization that she had never killed another living thing before washing over her. Her four legs felt as though they would buckle under her from the stress. Swallowing, she forced herself to step forward, her staff prodding the body of the wolf to make certain it was dead.

Her attention quickly turned to the man's motionless form. Carefully kneeling beside him, she took hold of what remained of his shirt, shifting him onto his back. Fae brought her head to his chest, her pointed ears able to detect quiet, labored breathing and a faint heartbeat. Her eyes moved to the man's left shoulder, her hand flying to her mouth involuntarily as she saw the wound. Fae reached for a pouch on her belt, withdrawing a handful of dark green medicinal herbs. _This will require more than I can do here,_ she thought to herself as she placed the herbs onto the wound. _But this should at least—_

Fae's high-pitched shriek escaped her throat as the man screamed in pain at her touch. His head rolled to the side as he lapsed back into unconsciousness. Fae brought her hand to his brow, her stomach churning with worry as she felt his brow radiating heat from fever.

A loud crashing sound from behind her caused Fae to whirl her head about, her hand grasping her staff once again. Relief turned to irritation as the _skygge folke_ leader approached her, his fur stained with a dark, sticky substance. "Where _were_ you?!" she demanded, not caring if she insulted him. "What happened?"

The creature growled at her. "Did you think the ones you saw were the only wolves? I ran most of them off and took," he glanced down at his fur, "some of them with me. I would have been here sooner if those men hadn't dispersed the pack. It took longer to get rid of them with them spread—"

His voice trailed off as he saw at last the motionless body of the blonde man lying on ground. A cry of rage like Fae had never heard before exploded from his throat as the _skygge_ creature bounded toward the unconscious man. "You . . . You must help him, _íllithrena_."

Fae found herself at a loss for words as the beast looked back to her, his expression laced not with its usual haughtiness toward her, but instead, pleading. "I . . . I . . . I don't know if I can," she stammered.

"You _must_!" the beast roared, carefully picking up the unconscious man in his arms. The growls and hisses that were his language were softer than ever. "He . . . He is an old comrade of mine from years ago. Your people . . . You know the old ways. Your father would have taught you, yes?"

Fae swallowed. "Y– . . . Yes. But I must take him back to my glade. Where I have all my medicines."

The _skygge folke_ leader nodded in understanding. "I will follow," he hissed. "Let me—"

He cried out, nearly dropping the man, as his right leg buckled under him.

"You're injured!" Fae cried out, her eyes noticing a small trail of blood dripping behind him. "Here. Let me—"

The beast shook his head. "No," he insisted. "You . . . You must carry him, _íllithrena._ I will be fine. But he . . . He needs your skills immediately!"

Nodding, Fae allowed the creature to lay the unconscious man across her back. Grimacing in pain, the _skygge folke_ leader made certain the man was secure before stepping back. "Now . . . Go, _íllithrena_ ," he snarled. "Go and make him well. _Now!_ "

Fae turned herself in the direction of her glade, her hooves galloping like never before as she raced back toward her pond. _Please,_ she thought to herself as she raced over grass and dirt, the distant howl of the wolves echoing all around her. _Please, do not let it be too late . . ._

* * *

 **AN: More to come.**


End file.
